


The Demon's Heart

by Whispers_in_the_Shadow



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: I wrote this about my character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 10:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whispers_in_the_Shadow/pseuds/Whispers_in_the_Shadow





	The Demon's Heart

Prologue

It was raining again. This time she had no cover and nowhere left to go. Normally she would revel at the fact it was raining. Today, on the other hand, she was hungry, soaked and generally in an unpleasant mood. To the untrained eye, Myriella looked ageless like many of her kind and thus could be mistaken for a mature Kaldorei- or Night Elf as some tend to call them- yet she was a mere fifty-five years old, practically a child for her people.

She heard rustling in the bushes behind her, loud almost crashing, like a beast of enormous size, with giant fangs and claws just waiting to tear her limb from limb and suck out the marrow from her bones.  
With this thought, she grabbed the first thing she could find and held it in front of her with both hands hoping to protect herself against the terrible beast that had come to eat her.

Silence crept over the woods.

She carefully and slowly opened her left eye…. her mouth stood ajar… she opened her right eye…. “A cow!? no a bull?!...” her first thoughts were interrupted by the booming voice.

“What?! Never seen a Tauren before little elfling?” The creature then laughed a big thundering sound and carefully plucked the tiny twig Myriella had held in front of herself as a makeshift weapon. “Were you going to poke my eye out with this… this toothpick?” He beamed a big, slightly tooth-free grin at her.

Myriella looked at what had been plucked out of her hands with shame, she should have known better. The twig was possibly the worst, scrawniest and useless twig out of all the forest, not even fit to poke a fire let alone defend her against anything she could possibly have met in these woods. She then imagined herself fighting a tiny chipmunk who would laugh at her twig and run off pelting nuts at her.

The big, seemingly young Tauren held out his hand and smiled at her again. “Ezhno, Ezhno Keenblade they call me, though keen is...well… overrated.”

Slightly overwhelmed by the situation she took a step back and tripped over her own feet, landing on her backside.

“You really have never seen a Tauren, huh?” Ezhno looked at her with a compassionate smile. She shook her head, staying silent all the while.

“Can you talk?” he asked her poking her in the process as if he thought it would make her give a sound. She opened her mouth in protest as if to say something when something, this time a real creature of the woods, came crashing through the bushes.

“Furbolgs!” hissed Ezhno “Hurry little one! We must flee this place!” He charges a few steps forwards when he realizes she is still sitting there staring at the angry Furbolg running in her direction.

“...for the love of my ancestors...” he curses beneath his breath as he runs back to scoop her up off the ground, throws her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes and runs off into the woods away from the meanwhile group of Furbolgs yelling and grunting at them in angry tones.

It was a makeshift hut, skulls on pikes spread around it to scare off unwanted guests. Inside there was furbolg fur on the floor, on the furniture, practically everywhere.

“No wonder they were angry.” Myriella thought to herself. She sat down on a wide chair made of a giant hollowed-out tree stump in a pile of soft furbolg fur. Ezhno was poking the embers of his fireplace in the middle of the room. He then turned his attention back to his guest.

“Now elfling, talk…. Start with your name perhaps.”

This time he wasn’t smiling anymore. He was debating with himself about what he should do with her. His people hardly had any quarrels with the Kaldorei but they did avoid them nonetheless. She stared at him.

“Myriella…” she replied.

He waited. Then tilting his head somewhat irritated he asked her.

“And your last name?” She stared at him.

“You have one right?”

She continued to stare at him.

“Ugh… you are infuriating…. What about your family?”

This time she flinched ever so slightly and looked away. He looked at her with a sad smile.

“I understand… You know, I was once a mighty warrior,” he flexed his muscles in front of her, looking rather absurd.

In her mind she grinned her girlish grin, in reality, she starred motion and emotionless, a poker face through and through. He didn’t expect her to react, so he continued on telling his story.

“They had chosen me to protect my tribe. We had run into a fierce band of centaurs and were forced to flee the area,” he continued.

Various emotions danced across his face as he told her of his past.

“They had outwitted us. We sent the largest group of our strongest warriors to buy us time and the rest of us evacuated our elderly and young’uns… That is when they attacked. So many died… so little I could do… I had failed them… the keen blade was no more.” He looked at her and for a brief moment, he thought she had given him a look of true compassion and understanding. Then he blinked… all he saw was her poker face.

“Anyway… as you can see my last name is meaningless…. So if you don’t have one, worry not, elfling,” he assured her.

She gave him a puzzled look as he walked over to a huge cabinet. He pulled out even more furs, walked back over to her and dumped them on top of her.

“Get out of those wet rags you call clothes and warm up. I shall make us some food.”

Covered in furs she smiled to herself for the first time in days. She sat in front of the fire smiling calmly to herself. Ezhno entered the hut carrying a giant haunch of meat. He threw it on the table, went over to the wall where he kept his weapons and plucked a dagger from the cabinet there.

“Here,” He said as he tossed that dagger on her lap. “You will be defending yourself from now on…. No more freebies… besides, it’s too tiny for me to use.” She took the dagger out of its sheath and inspected it. “I won’t be saving you every time trouble comes crashing through the bushes… and this place here is full of trouble. Besides I haven’t decided if you can stay here any more than tonight.”

She stared at him with her big round eyes.

“Stop it!” He started to grin. “I said stop it… don't stare at me like that! You are not a cat...STOP...oh for the love of my anc- fine… you may stay. But you will work and help around!”

This time she grinned at him, got up and fixed the furs wrapped around her body and went to the kitchen area of the hut to help prepare their dinner. “This is going to work out just fine.” She thought to herself.

***

Weeks later Myriella was sitting on a tree looking down over a cliffside. “See anything?!” Ezhno yelled up towards her.

She shook her head giving him an irritated look and peered through the branches again. The centaur patrol they had been following hadn’t heard his loud booming voice. She turned to him once more, just in time to see him open his giant mouth, just about to yell something again. This time she chucked a nut at him, successfully stopping him from shouting. She deftly jumped down the tree and walked up to him.

“You stupid, imbecile cow! However did you become a hunter?” she hissed at him. “They could have heard you!”

He stared at her slightly angry and opened his mouth to retort.

“Shut it!” she cut in. “There are five of them down there. If you want to get them all we will need to strateg-”

“Eight of us actually.” A cold voice cut in.

“What is this? A Night Elf and a Tauren? Forbidden love?” the centaur spat at them.

“Kill them all!” he barked his orders as the three of them closed in.

From the distance, the other five could be heard charging their way. They had to act fast.  
Ezhno unfastened the giant hammer he carried on his back and charged at two of the attackers pushing them back with his body alone. Myriella jumped past them to the third centaur, the leader she had guessed, considering he was giving orders. He plunged his spear at her and hit nothing. No one was there. Had he misjudged his opponent? He felt a weight on his back, followed by a whisper.

“I don’t do love.”

She stabbed him with her dagger deep between his shoulder blades and as he tried to defend himself she stabbed continuously until his body fell over, limply. Ezhno had finished dispatching his two attackers as the other five finally reached them. Together they charged at the newcomers with such fierceness their five attackers stood there dumbfounded.

***

The Third war had passed. Their home in northern Ashenvale was destroyed leaving the area poisoned with Fel, now known as Felwood. Furbolgs still roam the place but they are poisoned, almost demonic. They had survived the war together, always keeping an eye on each others back. Ezhno was now a grizzled old Tauren, not as spry as he was years ago. Myriella looked the same, ageless.

“Hey, old cow! get over here. Food's almost ready.” Myriella shouted over to her companion.

They had moved on towards the borders of Moonglade. It was peaceful here, but the land was sacred to the druids. They planned on moving on to Winterspring. It should be far enough to keep them safe from demons and the legion.

“'Tis beautiful here don’t ya think, Myri?” She nodded as she scooped up some stew into a wooden bowl. “Also, I do not appreciate it when you call me ‘old cow’! How many times do I have to tell you.” His voice sounded serious, yet there was some tenderness inside there only she could hear.

“Oh, quit complaining and have some stew.” She stared off into the distance.”What are those lights?” she asked her old friend.

“If I remember correctly our shaman used to tell me that when the eye of the Earth Mother shines down on someone, they are blessed as well as destined to do great things.”

“Blessed you say… they kind of look like spires, you know… a tower of light to watch over those that live here.” she replied, all the while staring at the pillars of light in the distance. Ezhno chuckled at this. “Yeah you are my little moon spi-” He stares at her with great big eyes. “That’s it! Your name, my dear!”

“Wait..what?!” She looked confused.

“Henceforth you shall be known as Myriella Moonspire, my dear.” He grinned at her.

“Stop poking fun old cow.” was all she could say.

***

It was weeks later when she found herself rushing through the woods. Ezhno was right behind her. Fear was growing in her. Why did she insist on them leaving Winterspring?

“Damnit!” she shouted at herself in her mind.

She glanced behind her. Ezhno was still there, good, he was getting old but could still keep up. Behind him were three… no four demons. She remembered Ezhno telling her about them… Felstalkers they are called, vicious terrible creatures with deadly bites and even deadlier claws. They had no idea where they had come from and who was leading them, all they had to do now was flee and find safety. Ezhno was reaching his end. Close to a hundred years in age he just wasn’t cut out for this life. Myriella on the other hand had gotten strong, nimble and very deadly, he thought to himself. She could survive on her own now. He had thought of cutting her loose many times over but just couldn’t bring himself to. He had grown too fond of this moon child. They had reached a cliff. No way back no way forward, the felstalkers closing in.

“We have to jump.” He said in a matter of fact voice. She knew what this voice meant.

“No. I will not -”

“Quiet little one. It is time. I am too old for this and you… ever so young and spry. Hurry now, jump!” She looked at him, terror in her eyes.

“No, not without you! we can fight them and win!”

She unstrapped her spear from her back getting in a fighting position. The first two charged at them. Myri tried to impale one of them but it was too fast and skipped about her dodging her spear and lounging at her leg with its sharp claw. It dug in. She screamed in pain. Ezhno had a hard time fighting his own felstalker. Using his hammer, he parried the first attack and successfully pushed his opponent away from him as he heard Myriella’s screams. He turned on the spot and lounged at the second felstalker smashing its skull with his hammer, leaving his back completely open. The first one jumped on his back and bit into his shoulder. He bellowed in pain and anger for letting his guard down. As he twirled in an attempt to rid himself of the foul creature, Myriella just barely gathered her strength to plunge her spear into the back of the attacking beast. They were both gravely wounded and at least three more of these vile creatures were closing in on them.

“It is time my dear,” Ezhno said. he had a sad look in his eyes. “I never thought it would end like this but well… I am not very surprised actually.” He smiled at her.

She stared at him, clenching her teeth in pain. “No,” she thought “not now, not here.” She gripped her spear tightly moving to a better position. The remaining three felstalkers just seconds away, as she felt his tight grip on her shoulder. He pressed down once.

“Goodbye, my dear elfling. Remember me, your old cow.” He said as he flung her over the cliff to the river below.

The last thing she saw, was how the three felstalkers pounced on him and tore into his body. She heard not a single scream before the rushing of the river took her consciousness away.


End file.
